i'm sending my love from downtown
by bluepianos
Summary: All you really need in life are the Lakers and the Spurs and some good ol' basketball. And maybe a little bit of something else in between. A bit of Puck/Sabrina to bid the summer farewell.


**Words**: 1,516  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I can only imagine what kind of shit would go down if I _did_ own the Sisters Grimm.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: This was written quickly for fun and was mostly self-indulgent (basically I really love basketball) as part of a bigger drabble/short story project that I lost when this son of a bitch stole my laptop. I was only able to recover like 40% of what I'd written, this particular story included. Also, this is set in my post-series re-imagined epilogue where Puck moves to New York to rule his kingdom instead of going on that stupid magical quest (it's _stupid_ ok), so they're high school seniors in this.

**Warning**: This gets, like, a _little_ heated towards the end but I know _for a fact_ that a lot of you reading SG fics on this website are still itty bitty children. And so it is my duty to taint your innocence with slightly mature scenes. JK, I'm a good role model. (I'm really not.)

**i'm sending my love from downtown**

It's a bright and colourful June afternoon when Puck finds himself lounging on the Grimm's living room couch, sharing a bowl of Doritos with Sabrina, and watching the NBA playoffs live on television.

"You know, we're considering upgrading to a bigger, HD screen," Sabrina says offhandedly to Puck, reaching over to grab a chip. He glances at her and then tilts his head, studying the Grimm's current TV.

"Good," he says. "This piece of junk isn't going to do the finals any justice."

Sabrina rolls her eyes and flicks the corner of her bitten chip at his face. He jerks away from her, snickering, and brushes the cheesy residue off of his neck before returning his focus on the game.

He's been excited about the current season since the last one ended, and even more psyched when the Lakers made it through the Western conference to qualify for the playoffs. He almost hadn't cared when he'd found out that Sabrina's favourite team, the Spurs, were right behind the Lakers. The two teams are currently head to head in the middle of a game, pounding through the first quarter on the Grimm's TV, but nothing's been too exciting so far.

The two seventeen-year-olds sit in tense silence, staring at the television screen with their undivided attention when the Spurs suddenly pick up the pace after a spontaneous turnover.

"Take it!" Sabrina screams, leaning forward on the couch.

"Miss, miss, miss!" Puck yells desperately. Immediately afterwards, his yells melt into a disappointed groan and he flings himself back on the couch as the first quarter ends with a wicked assist as one of the players sinks a flawless three-pointer into the basket from downtown. Sabrina cries out in triumph, jumping up from her seat and doing a little jig right in front of Puck.

"You Spurs fans are the worst," Puck mutters, reaching into the empty chip bowl and looking at it forlornly when he comes up with nothing. Sabrina stops dancing in front of him, plants her hands on her waist, and sends him a remarkable grin, all of which collectively paint an image Puck secretly wants to drink up and remember for the rest of the week.

"And Lakers fans are all sore losers," she taunts. He scoffs and gets up to stretch, thinking about dashing into the Grimms' kitchen for some snack refills while the commercials are on.

"It's the first quarter, Grimm," he points out, picking up the bowl and walking to the kitchen. "You'll see. Kobe's gonna get his drive on, and we'll be up by so many points, not even Duncan can save you."

Henry peeks out from the kitchen, startling Puck, who'd forgotten that he still hadn't left the house to meet Veronica and the other two kids at the supermarket.

"Those are some big words there, your majesty," he says teasingly. "The Lakers didn't even qualify for the playoffs the other year."

"That was one time!" Puck cries, side-stepping Henry and ducking into the kitchen quickly, grabbing the chips and two new cans of root beer from the fridge. He can hear Sabrina chortling from the living room along with Henry's amused chuckles. The fairy marches back into the living room just as a commercial about a lint roller is starting, and plops back down on the couch next to Sabrina.

"You sure you don't want anything from the store?" Henry calls as he heads towards the front door.

"You sure you want to miss this? Dad, they're making history as we speak!" Sabrina fires back. She hears her father laugh shortly while he pulls his shoes on.

"Are you kidding? I don't care about the Spurs _or_ the Lakers. Call me if the Suns miraculously turn up on the roster," he jokes bitterly (they hadn't qualified this year). Sabrina winces slightly but Puck gives a short laugh.

"Maybe next year, Hank," he calls out, and he hears the older man grumble before bidding them goodbye and shutting the door behind him. Puck listens attentively to the echoes outside of the condo to make sure Henry walks the eleven steps to the elevator and actually gets in. Once he hears the ding, he practically throws the chip bowl off of his lap.

"Okay, he's gone," he says hurriedly, but Sabrina's already halfway on top of him and tossing her hair out of the way before he finishes speaking.

"Way ahead of you," she murmurs before leaning down and_ thank fucking finally_ capturing his lips with hers, tilting her head and shimmying on top of his lap so she can straddle him as comfortably as possible. Puck doesn't respond immediately, a little stunned by her eagerness, and takes a moment to gather his senses - he's definitely going to need them for this.

And this? This is normal now.

Risking quick, sloppy kisses in the hallway while her family members aren't looking is normal. Asking Mustardseed to constantly make up cover stories for Puck to tell their mother is normal. Spending less time studying together at the Grimm's condo and more time "studying" in the back rows of the library at school is normal.

The way they breathe together is normal, how every time he sighs, she inhales and absorbs as much of him as she can. The fluctuating pace of her heart is normal, the _thump-thump _a beat that's becoming more and more familiar to Puck's senses and a rhythm that he can't help but follow now. When they'd both agreed to do this - this semi-hidden relationship - it was awkward, and unfamiliar, and weird - of _course_ it was weird, but it was exciting. Everything that had to do with Puck had always been exciting for Sabrina, and everyone knew why Puck _really_ moved back to New York, though he's never and _would_ never admit it. Of _course_ it would take time, and patience, and effort, but it's worth it.

_God_, is it worth it.

Maybe it was a little awkward in the beginning, but that was then. This is now.

Sabrina barely separates her lips from his to catch her breath and practically _whines_ when his splayed fingers sneak under her shirt and grasps her by the hips to pull her body downwards and closer against his. She pulls back just slightly with the intent of saying something, she's not sure what, but he follows her like a moth to a flame, like he always has, like he's promised he always _will_, and attaches his lips to the junction of her neck and her collarbone, where he knows he can unwind her in less than seconds.

"P-Puck," she whispers, hardly able to form a coherent thought. "The second - the second quarter - "

"You know as well as I do," Puck interrupts her, his lips moving against her warm skin, damp with a sheen of sweat, "that things only get interesting after halftime."

He notices her jaw twitch with another attempt to end their activities so he instinctively sinks his teeth gently onto her collarbone, dragging them down towards her chest. He relishes the gasp he'd been trying to pull out of her and is about to lean up to kiss her nice and hard on the lips again only to frown when she pushes away from him abruptly.

"Goddamn it," Sabrina swears breathily, and Puck finds himself picking at his brain quickly, ready to complain or apologise or panic, when she reaches down and pulls her shirt off in one swift, graceful flourish. When she reemerges from the folds of her t-shirt, she's met with an awestruck, nervous look while Puck's eyes scan the sight before him.

"Y-you're getting good at that," he notes, and the stutter in his words is so uncharacteristic that Sabrina's heart melts for reasons that have nothing to do with the June heat. She leans down, cupping his chin in her palms and gives him a sweet, chaste kiss before breaking away again.

"Practice makes perfect," she says quickly before bending down again to give his neck the attention he'd given hers.

Sabrina's family still isn't back yet when they manage to pull themselves together and they only really do so at the end of the third quarter. By then, they're both shirtless, hot, and sweaty messes on the couch, the game nearly (but not quite) forgotten. The bowl of chips is sitting on the corner of the coffee table, teetering on the brink of spilling all over the floor, the two cans of root beer are glistening with thick drops of condensation dripping down the sides, staining the wooden table, and the NBA broadcaster is yapping away his praises for Kobe Bryant in the background. They've practically missed the entire game, regardless of the fact that they've still got the best quarter left to watch, but Sabrina's giggling at one of Puck's stupid jokes, rewarding him with a kiss in the middle of his chest, and Puck pulls her a little closer into his arms, settling in comfortably on top of the couch.

There are always reruns.


End file.
